Page 21 of Spite Crush

“You do have lube, right?” he asked.

“I do,” I assured him.

“Do you know where it is?”

I couldn’t help laughing at the question as I walked over to my bag and opened the side zipper pocket, retrieving the bottle and tossing it onto the bed.

“Great,” Zak said. “Now take off your shirt.”

I’d never in my life felt self-conscious about my body, but standing in front of a topless Zak Dempsey, with all his muscles and chest hair and just…ridiculous stereotypically manly body, I couldn’t help recalling his words about me being scrawny, and I hesitated.

“Kellen,” he said softly. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” He walked back to me and held my chin between his fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I want to see you. All of you.”

It was the first time I’d ever heard him say my name and the sound of itpassing his lips made my heart and my cock twitch in rhythm together. God I wanted him. And in order to be with him, I was going to have to take my clothes off.

“You do it,” I insisted, still staring into his bright blue eyes. “Please.”

With no hesitation, he released his hold on my face and reached down to pull my shirt up and over my head, tossing it aside before immediately moving to unbutton my jeans as well.

For a moment I thought he was just going to go ahead and strip mecompletely naked, but his fingers stayed curled in my waistband as his gaze raked up my body to meet mine again.

“You have done this before, right?” I asked him.

It suddenly occurred to me that a man who spent his life hiding his sexuality probably didn’t get many opportunities to engage in sex with other men. Maybe the reason he didn’t come in guns blazing, so to speak, was because he hadn’t actually had any experience.

“I have,” he said, thankfully not seeming offended by the question. “But never like this.”

“Like what?”

“In a bed,” he admitted.

I stood with that statement for a minute, my gaze searching his face as I considered the implications of what we were about to do. I could almost imagine rushed hand jobs in locker rooms. Silent thrusts between two closeted players, aching for physical contact that they couldn’t trust to anyone else.

It sounded so incredibly lonely.

“Don’t pity me,” he snapped.

“Trust me, Dempsey, pity is not what I’m feeling for you.” I reached down and grabbed his hand, moving it to press over my erection. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop talking.”

He shifted his hand to unzip my jeans, and I reached out to undo his as well, our mouths coming back together as we tried to wrangle each other out of our pants until we had to break apart once more to just remove our own.

I moved toward the bed as Zak kicked his shoes away then shucked his jeans off completely, then he turned and pushed me backward onto the mattress, his body following mine down.

He caught his own weight on his hands before laying completely over me, his massive body covering mine, his skin still hot as hell everywhere it touched me.

I gripped his hair in my hands and urged him down to kiss me again, our mouths practically warring to dominate the kiss, tongues andteeth violently smashing against each other as our erections wept between us, a steady drip of warm, wet precum spreading across our skin.

Zak pulled back to stare down at me, the pupils of his eyes blown wide, leaving his bright blue irises thin rings around them.

“Would you…” The corners of his eyes creased as if he were in pain. “I want you to top.”

“That’s such an alpha-bro thing to ask,” I teased him, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“Inside thought,” he hissed as he trailed his lips across my cheek.

“Not at all,” I argued, hooking my leg over his and urging him to roll over so I was on top of him. “An inside thought would be, if you try to ride me you’re going to break my hips.”

“Because you’re so scrawny?”

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